Let The Game Begin
by Scarlett-Clarke
Summary: It's never fun when your stuck in a 'game' with Italy's dark side as America, Canada, Japan and Romano find out. {Warning: strong bloody violence and situations readers may find upsetting} Let the Games begin.


Dark Italy – Everyday I'm Shufflin'

The boy skulked along the broken wall behind him. A dark glint glittered in his normally soft amber eyes and a sadistic smile curled onto his innocent child-like face. His small hand gripped the delicate silver knife tightly at the exciting thought of the sharp blade carving into soft, pink flesh. The boy trembled with excitement and his copper curl twitched and bounced as he hauled himself up onto the obliterated rubble behind him. He crouched down and scanned the barren, desolate city of bricks and cement surrounding him, searching for the smallest sign of movement that gave his prey's hiding place away.

He bared his teeth in another twisted smile as he spotted a flash of colour amongst the grey landscape. The boy jumped down from his perch and took off in a quick run towards his goal. His dark blue army jacket, now plastered with mud, dust and something much worse, his boots barely making a sound on the tarmaced terrain. The only noise that could be heard was the clink of cold, hard steel as two small knives bumped against the revolver hanging from his belt. He slowed as he approached the building where he had seen the movement. He paused and held his breath in anticipation, listening to the silence and waiting for the tell-tale signs of...

There. There it was.

The sound of a brick cracking against the concrete floor as it was dislodged by whoever was leaning on it. The soft hiss of air escaping between teeth in a quiet swear.

The boy felt a tingle of excitement run through his body like an electric shock as he silently rounded the other side of the wall to find two men crouched behind it. The two brothers had their backs to him as they cowered behind the broken wall.

'D-Do you think he's gone eh?' The younger Canadian asked. His hair, longer than his brother's, was streaked with blood and dirt. He was panting as though he had sprinted a mile and was holding the upper half of his arm with his other hand, which the boy knew was hiding a neat little bullet hole, as his blood stained the tan coat he wore.

'I... I dunno,' Alfred panted his normally arrogant bellow reduced to a cracked, rasp. Feliciano smiled maliciously at the effect he was having on the usually brave brothers. He coughed politely for their attention. The two spun round, Matthew somewhat drunkenly as his loss of blood affected his senses and he resulted in tripping and smashing the back of his head on the broken wall. He collapsed with a groan.

'Mattie!' Alfred tried to haul his brother up without success and without taking his eyes off the small Italian who stood before him, smiling sweetly.

Alfred snarled. 'Help him! Please! He never did anything to you! Please just help him!'

Feliciano cocked his head to the side.

'Nothing,' he blinked at Alfred, 'but-a you did. You teased-a me and-a bullied me and-a that-a made me very upset. It made-a me angry.'

'But why do this to Mattie?! Why don't you take it out on me?!'

'Silly Alfred, of-a course I will kill you but-a I knew this would hurt-a you much more.' A crazed smile appeared on the innocent face and Italy advanced on him. Alfred backed away from Feliciano, trying to drag and almost unconscious Canada with him. Feliciano smirked and raised his gun.

'How sweet. Now-a drop him and-a stay where-a you are,' the cold voice no longer matched the expression of its owner.

America felt shards of brick digging into his back as he was pressed against it and it dawned on him that for him there was no escape. He willed Canada to get up and run from this crazy bastard, to save himself. He stared at the prone figure on the floor in horror as the Italian swung his foot back and then forwards again with as much power as he could. His boot made contact with the side of Matthew's and Alfred wretched at the sharp crack and then crunch as Matthew's skull shattered under the impact. America was forced to watch as Italy smashed his boot into Mattie again and his brother's head flopped lifelessly to face him. Alfred stared into the dull, lifeless, purple eyes and felt anger bubble up inside him. He gritted his teeth and charged at the Italian who just smiled at him with the familiar angelic expression. Alfred stopped dead when he saw the gun and felt the cold, hard steel shoved roughly against his forehead.

'Oh America, you didn't-a think I'd-a make it that-a easy did you?' Feliciano's smile grew, 'now-a you know how-a I feel! Goodbye..'

Alfred squeezed his eyes close, the image of his brother's dead face still crystal clear in his mind and he waited for the impact of pain as Feliciano pulled the trigger.

/

Feliciano smiled to himself at his handiwork as he looked at Matthew's battered, bloody figure and Alfred's pale, lifeless form lying side by side. He turned and surveyed the broken city searching for his next 'friend.' He was going to enjoy this next one he thought as he heard the crack of bricks falling as though they had been knocked over. He grinned and stalked towards his next prey...

/

Japan stumbled over the bricks and dived to catch them but too late. He heard them smash against each other and tensed. Surely he would have heard that...

Kiku lay there listening for a moment and was aware of someone close by. Just the slight clink of metal on metal, the occasional stone being caught by the sole of a boot and rolling away across the tarmac, light shallow breathing. Kiku mentally swore. He'd been found. Japan leapt to his feet and dived for the stairwell of the nearest building, no longer caring for stealth or silence. He had been found and his only chance was to outrun his attacker. Being small, he was nimble and took the uneven steps two at a time, but all the time he could hear someone giving chase.

Kiku burst through the door at the top of the stair and found himself on a small roof space. He rushed to the side. It was a long way down. He suddenly realised he wasn't alone and he straightened up, still looking out across the ruined city.

'What took you so rong?' he asked without turning.

'I-a had some... un-afinished business to attend to...' came the twisted voice of his once best friend from behind him to the left.

'Alfred and Matthew yes?'

'How-a did you guess?' There was no surprise in his tone.

Japan swallowed the ball of tears at the death of his friends and replied, ' ...because you would reave the biggest charrenge to the end.'

'But-a you knew-a you weren't the biggest challenge.' It wasn't a question, more a statement. Kiku could hear the voice shifting from his left to his right. Italy was positioning himself ready.

i'Two can pray at that game...'/i he thought then he spoke out loud, 'no but you knew you could have fun with me. Not Alfred because he was too concerned for Matthew's safety to fight you. Matthew was to badry injured. It isn't hard to work out.'

'Good. I-a knew I-a kept you for a reason Kiku but...'

Kiku had a second's warning to draw his sword and turn on the boy before the knife slammed into him. Instead, metal hit metal with a clang and Italy snarled. He swung his knife at Japan again only to be blocked and shoved backwards. He jumped up and charged again at Kiku, managing to bury his knife deep into the smaller man's shoulder. The Japanese man hissed angrily in pain and swung at Feliciano but he dodged it and grinned sadistically at Japan. Kiku was shocked. He'd never seen such an expression on the Italian man's face before. He was used to the broad, sweet smile but this smile unnerved him and it ended up being his downfall. Literally...

Feliciano jumped forwards, knocking the sword from Kiku's hands and pushing him towards the edge. Japan glanced down at the drop then back at Feliciano who, to his horror, was aiming Kiku's own sword and his neck. Kiku sighed he had two choices: a) die or b) die with dignity, on his own terms.

'Grazie for-a such good fun Kiku!' Italy grinned savagely.

'You wercome Feliciano,' Kiku closed his eyes and let himself tip backwards over the edge. He chose choice B.

/

Feliciano peered over the side at the broken body of his once good friend and he frowned confused. Naughty Japan! That wasn't how it was supposed to end! It wasn't fun this way! Italy shrugged and skipped back down the steps again, whistling with Kiku's sword over his shoulder. He reached the bottom and rounded the corner kneeling next to Kiku's body.

'You-a ruined my game Kiku! That-a wasn't very nice was it?' The boy glared at the body almost as though he was expecting an answer but instead he wrenched his knife out of his shoulder and stabbed the sword into his chest with a wet thud.

'You-a can have this back, it's-a too fancy for me but-a I'll be taking-a this back!' Italy grinned and flipped the knife between his hands as he stood up and began to walk down the cracked tarmac, balancing like a child along the faded paint lines that ran down the middle like ugly scars. He wouldn't bother looking for his last play thing. He knew he would come running sooner or later. His brother never could resist a fight...

/

Feliciano began to whistle a tune, meaningless to most, but not Romano. Italy stopped and grinned as he heard someone growl behind him.

'How-a could you whistle-a that now you stupid bastardo?!' Romano growled again. Italy turned and looked at him in mock shock.

'What-a do you mean fratello? I was just-a whistling to myself...'

'It's-a what you were whistling idiota! That-a song was special to us!' He spat in front of Feliciano. 'How could-a you sing it now?!'

Italy's eyes darkened almost to red, a cruel smile playing around his lips as he advanced on his brother and began to circle him like a tiger hunting. Lovino wasn't stupid. He knew it was all a game to Feliciano. He was playing with them all like a child because, well... Feliciano had never really grown up at all. In his mind, he was just playing another game, just much deadlier that to him, made it all the more exciting. Romano turned with Italy, keeping him in his line of sight the whole time. A thought almost distracted him.

iIsn't it a bitch when you can't even trust your own brother not to kill you?/i

The younger continued his silent circling until Lovino realised his circles were gradually closing in. A shot of panic lanced through him but he crushed it angrily.

This had to stop.

Feli was out of control and as his older brother; it fell to Lovino to stop him.

He suddenly realised that Italy had stopped and Romano had lost him from view. Fuck. The elder sighed, knowing what was coming next. In this game when they were younger, this was usually the point where Feliciano would jump on him, shouting and laughing that he had won and Lovi really needed to start playing properly. Lovino would usually throw him off grumpily and yell at him for calling him Lovi then the game would start again with new reverie. That's not how it would end this time. Romano's shoulder's sagged as he fingered the gun in his pocket. It was the only way.

bKill or be killed.../b

He spun round and fired just as Feliciano jumped towards him. The boy shrieked in pain and collapsed on the concrete clutching his shoulder. The shot had gone wide of its target but the bullet had still ripped through Italy's arm just below the shoulder, snagging the flesh and navy material alike, tearing them away. Feliciano removed his hand and stared in fascination at the deep wound, at the milk bottle white of the bone that was on show and at the scarlet liquid that ran down his arm, soaking the material of his jacket and dripped steadily of his fingers. He turned to Romano, his innocent smile plastered on his slowly paling face as the blood continued to escape his body.

'Ahh Fratello... Your-a aim hasn't improved much has it? No matter, you-a broke the rules of-a our game anyway remember? I-a never used to-a hurt you this much when-a we were children... That-a wasn't very nice of you...' the twisted voice almost sounded as though it was muttering to itself as it trailed off but then continued, 'please-a Lovino... help me...' Italy began to plead with his brother. 'I-a need help. I didn't mean-a to kill our friends or hurt-a you,' a tear dribbled down his pale dirty cheek and Feliciano hung his head. Romano frowned and approached him warily.

'Fratello...?' He was about to kneel down in front of his brother to check he was ok when Italy's head snapped up and the older man was suddenly aware of a stabbing pain that shot through his stomach. Italy grinned savagely, his tears and forgiveness gone as he pushed the knife ever so slowly deeper into the soft olive skin of Lovino's stomach. He stood up so he was nose to nose with Romano and for the first time in his life, he saw fear and pain scorching back at him from his fratello's harsh brown eyes. He was shocked but he carried on pushing until the knife was buried up to the handle in the gap under Lovino's ribs.

Romano gritted his teeth, determined not to make a noise but it was proving hard. He could feel the knife burrowing deep inside him, shoving and tearing until he almost couldn't take it. He tried to keep his face emotionless but he knew his eyes betrayed him as he met with Feliciano's dark orbs and saw a flicker of doubt, shock and terror.

The ireal/i Feliciano.

He was still in there but buried too deep to stop anything. It was killing him to see his outward self destroying his closest friends and brother. The doubt disappeared and cold, hard anger replaced it.

'Why-a don't you say-a something fratello?' he smirked. Italy grasped the knife and twisted it slightly earning him a grunt from Romano. The childish, twisted smile returned and Feliciano twisted it viciously. Lovino cried out and collapsed to his knees. The knife came free and clattered to the ground.

Romano choked and splattered blood on the ground near Italy's feet. The world started to turn fuzzy and Lovino blinked desperately trying to clear his misty vision. His knees gave way and he smacked onto the ground, rolling onto the ground. The sky was black with clouds and Lovino could feel everything slipping away from him when a blurry figure obscured his vision.

'I'm sorry Lovi... I'm sorry...' Tears streamed down Feliciano's face, his soft, amber eyes were their normal colour but were uncharacteristically wide and tears pooled in them. Lovino opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't force the words out, only the last of his breath. A slight smile graced his lips for his brother's sake then his eyes fluttered shut and he let himself fall into the cold, black void of nothing.

/

Feliciano watched Romano die with a mixture of horror, disgust and pain.

What had he done?! He'd killed his brother, his best friends! Why?! Why had he done it?! The sharp, needle-like pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to the pain in his chest that meant his heart was being ripped apart into minuet pieces and then ground into the dirt like a used cigarette butt. He swallowed his tears and straightened himself up. He had one job left to do. He pulled the revolver out of his belt and held it against his head, whimpering as he felt the cold, deadly instrument press against his temple. He closed his eyes.

'I'm sorry...' he thought as he pulled the trigger and followed his friends into the darkness...


End file.
